Baya groans, “Now that’s a memory I’d love to erase forever. Fists were flying and, well, I honestly never thought my brother would speak to me again after what he witnessed. It’s safe to say we don’t talk about it.”
“Ooh.” Rush shakes his head wistfully, and I note the curls at the base of his neck. Rush has soft, thick hair, the kind my fingers rather enjoy running through. Stupid, stupid fingers. “So, tell me, man. Did you try to resist the urge?” He glances up at me for a moment and fire sparks between us. Holy crap. Is Rush trying to resist the urge? Ha! Doubtful. If I lie down for Rush, he wouldn’t turn me away. It goes against his nature. Besides, he’s practically majoring in female conquests. Blazing a trail for younger protégées who will take over the mass campus assault as he leaves Briggs and levels up to post-graduate debauchery. Essentially, it’s preparing him for life in the real world where he’ll carry on his sexual shenanigans on a corporate level. The skanks he’s bagging now are simply priming him for the big vagina leagues. I glower over at him for even putting such an indelicate thought in my mind.
“You bet,” Bryson continues. “I tried my hardest to think of her as a little sister, took her to the fair, movies, stuff like that. But, dude, when it’s real, you can’t deny it. I’m just sorry I ever tried.”
Baya chortles into the line. “And you might say I tried the opposite. I really did want his attention. And in the end, I got it in a big way. He was worth the wait.”
“Aw!” I coo into the mic. “It sounds like deep down the two of you knew all along you were meant to be.”
“No doubt,” Bryson affirms.
They talk for another twenty minutes about the day they shared at the fairgrounds, something about a stuffed giraffe he won for her named Lucy, about how the Black Bear Saloon fit into their story, and how those closing hour—three a.m. kisses factored into their building desire.
Those post-midnight kisses Rush and I have engaged in cross my mind, and as hard as I try to blink them away, they keep coming at me, hard and fast.
The hour wraps up, and both Rush and I thank them for the interview.
Rush gives me a few additional tips on how to leave on the all-night music, and we lock up and head out into the Student Union. Most of the lights are off, with the exception of the under counter lights in the back, and the entire cavernous room is lit up with a cobalt blue glow. The couches, which are usually filled with bodies, sit eerily unoccupied, and the tables lining the walls all have their chairs on top. Giant yellow cones are strewn about, letting us know the janitor has already swept through the place.
“So, thanks for helping out,” I say to fill the awkward silence that’s eating up the room.
“Thank you,” he says, pausing as he takes off his backpack and zips it. He sets it down on the sofa, and I unleash mine and do the same as if we had just trekked twenty miles and needed relief from all the pressure building on our shoulders. In truth, I just want to catch my breath after that trauma-fest that went on in there. I’m not sure if I can host that show on my own—not if I need to carry it myself anyhow. Regardless, it’s not something I want to get into at the moment. Maybe I’ll just casually bring it up at the next Media Club meeting. Or better yet, I can slough my show off on Seth.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Rush picks up my backpack and sets it neatly next to his as if his hands were looking for any busy work the vicinity had to offer.
“Seth Baker.” I give a sly smile because Rush is exactly the type of macho stereotypical guy to get amped up over the fact a person of the opposite sex is thinking of someone other than him.
He folds his arms across his chest like a reflex and scowls down at me. His brows dip into that sexy V I’m a sucker for, and my hormones are right back to pining for this bad boy I have no business being in a room alone with.
“Seth Baker, huh?” he grunts with disapproval, and I’m secretly giddy inside for crawling under his skin. I love how easily I can take down his ego and hold it under the sole of my shoe just to watch it writhe. “That dude is—” He glances past me at nothing in particular. “All right. So Seth’s a cool guy, but he’s Seth.” He shrugs as if I should know what he means. “He’s just—I don’t know.”
“Too wholesome for someone as prickly as me? That’s about as close as I’ll ever come to calling myself a bitch.” I wince at the expletive.
“I’d never call you that.” He grimaces. “And I’d never call Seth wholesome. If you think he’s clean-cut, you have a rude and crude surprise waiting for you. He’s not exactly shy with the girls. I hear enough to know that apartment of his has had its fair share of mileage.”
“Mileage, huh?” I take a step in and feel the heat emanating from his rock-hard chest. My fingers twitch to graze over that familiar terrain, and my face flushes with heat just knowing that my hands have had the pleasure to flatten themselves over that forbidden flesh. “You should know. You’ve put on quite the frequent flyer miles yourself. You’re quite the perv.”
He frowns at the idea, and something about that boyish act makes my stomach bisect with heat. “Yeah, well, I’m not keeping up with the Joneses anymore in that respect. Seth can take the crown. I’ve abdicated the throne, remember?” His body inches closer to mine, and a fire rips through my veins at what this might mean.
God, I should run. Heck, I should run right through that plate glass window in fact, not even taking the time to open the door. This is fight-or-flight at its most volatile. My body starts in on a series of shakes and shivers, and that darn sweet spot at the base of my thighs twitches with excitement. Ugh. I could strangle myself for being so ridiculous.
“Abdicating the throne, huh?” I toss a shoulder and accidently graze his chest. That spot on my arm radiates with heat as if I accidently seared it, and the thought alone enrages me against the fact my body refuses to go along with my mind. Rush is nothing but a playboy that should come with a warning label. “I doubt you’re abdicating anything,” I snap as if we were in the middle of a heated argument, and he blinks back as if I slapped him. “You’re just the kind of guy that would say anything to get laid. In fact, I bet that whole abdicating the throne thing is nothing more than some tried and true pickup line.” The words come out in huffs as I struggle to catch my breath. “You may have your sister fooled, but you’ll have to try harder with me.”
A faint hint of a smile plays on his lips, but then his features turn on a dime and he looks solidly perplexed. Most likely he’s not used to one of his noncompliant subjects barking the truth up at him. I bet Rush is far more used to the roll over and spread ’em reaction than the all-out fury I seem to be spouting.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” he whispers so low for a second I think he’s talking to himself.
“What’s the matter?” A smidge of satisfaction rises in me. “The midnight cowboy stunned to have a potential cowgirl shoot him with a reality filled dart? Don’t worry, your horny highness. I’m sure if you trot your hot self in front of Kappa Kappa Hussy, you’ll have an entire trail of harlots migrating toward the holy land, aka your boxers,” I snarl at him as if he had pulled his pants down and flashed his unholy goods at me.
That signature crooked grin climbs up one cheek, and it just stokes the fire of rage in me ten times hotter. Holy heck, I am going to decapitate Rush with the key to my car if he keeps smiling when I want him to combust with his own level of rage. Under no circumstances should Rush and I ever get along.
“So you think I’m hot?” He closes the distance between us. His fingers dig into the back of my hair, and he gives a firm tug as he pulls me in. His chest rises and falls. My mouth opens to say something, to demand he detangles his claws from my tresses, but my heart is pounding out a primal rhythm, and my breathing is too far out of whack for me to ever catch my breath, let alone speak.
Rush inches in, those hazel eyes of his linger over mine, thick and sweet as molasses. I can’t look away. He’s dangling his lips in front of me like some sexed-up carro
t, and I’m so damn hungry for carrots.
Come to me, I beckon with my eyes, but that crack of a smile he’s wearing only seems to widen. And then, just like that, he sobers up, that smug grin gliding off his face as he inches ever so closer, our lips just a breath away, but he refuses to pull the trigger.
Pull the damn trigger, Rush, I practically scream at him telepathically but no such luck. The greed-o-meter in me tilts, and I can’t handle not having his mouth over mine. I want him. I need him.
My mouth edges closer to his in the event he’s not picking up on the hint, but Rush doesn’t move, that steely gaze of his still pinned strong to mine.
“By the way, I don’t think you’re hot.” My eyes seal shut because I could never actually look at him and say those words, and just like that, my lips latch to his and an explosion of wanting unleashes inside me. Rush and I explode onto one another as if he just came back from war, and if he were a POW for one long decade, and we craved nothing more than to do exactly this. His tongue bursts into my mouth and does a powerful sweep as if teaching me a lesson. Rush lashes me, over and over again, hard and demanding like a punishment, and it thrills me right down to my curled toes.
My God, Rushford Knight is a drug that holds females of all ages and stages in life hostage. My breathing picks up as our hungry kisses increase with fury. His arms ride up and down my back. It feels exhilarating, like the best massage I’ve ever felt in my life. My hands run down his arms as I trace his granite-like biceps. I can feel him flexing for me, and a tiny laugh gets caught in my throat. But hell, judging by the floodgates in my panties, I’m very much appreciative of the gun show. My fingers work their way to his hair—my God, his hair. I’ve never felt anything so thick and soft in all my life. I can’t help but tug at it as if trying to extricate it from his scalp. This is more than some simple goodnight kiss. This is pure magic, lightning in a bottle going off in our mouths.
Rush eases up on his onslaught and delivers a series of sweet pecking kisses before diving back in, far more deliberately this time, achingly slow, and a groan rips from my throat as I silently beg him to increase his pace once again. A pang of wanting slices throughout my body—and then, like a ton of orgasmic bricks, it hits me.
Maybe I do want Rush after all.
Rush
That kiss.
Damn. Try as I might I can’t escape thinking about it for a single second. And considering the fact her lookalike brother is helping me schlep boxes from my room at the frat house to my rental, it’s not helping one bit.
“Dude,” Knox grunts as he dumps a pile of books next to the fireplace. “You’ve got way too much crap. You ever hear of something called a trash can?”
“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. You ever hear of a place called Goodwill?”
“All right. You’re better than me. Just offload some of this shit, would you? You’ve got this place loaded like a tinderbox. You’re starting to remind me of my sister.” He gulps down his water bottle as the sweat pours from his brows.
“You remind me of your sister,” I growl over at him as I pull a cold one out of the fridge myself.
“Keep away from my sister, sweetheart.” He blinks a wry smile as he flops onto the sofa with a grunt. “Speaking of my sister, I’ve got practice at three.” He frowns at his phone. “I was supposed to take her to the Fall Festival this afternoon, but I’m beat. There’s no way I’m doing anything after practice. Harper and I will be hitting Netflix hard—and then probably each other.” He gives a cheesy wink my way.
“Sounds like a plan.” I down my own water bottle just trying to cool off, but it has nothing to do with the fact I just hauled two tons of reading material into my place. Nope, the only thing that has me hot and bothered is Trixie. Damn. I wish she didn’t. She’s not for me. She’s totally out of bounds. She’s Knox’s lookalike for shit’s sake. It’s practically hitting for the other team if I tread any deeper into Toberman territory.
My gut wrenches as if demanding I take it back. Okay, fine, Trixie Toberman is one hundred percent woman. In fact, she’s the exact type of girl that makes me lose my effing mind. That biting dry humor gets me every time. Only in the past it’s never managed to wrangle me so completely. But Trixie? Hell, I don’t know what kind of sinister spells she’s conducting, but I do know that those kisses have spurred me on, turned me on more than anything else I’ve ever done with a girl. Attaching my mouth to hers has proven to be a live wire each and every time. It’s as if every electric current on the planet was coursing through us. At first, I thought it had to do with the fact I’ve gone cold turkey, stopped the condom parade in its tracks, but after that last kiss, which spanned hours, I don’t think I can deny the obvious. I’m way in over my head with this one.
I take a sharp breath, staggering over to where Knox is rolling off the couch. I can’t do it. I can’t pull the trigger on Trixie Toberman. She’s way too young and naïve when it comes to guys. And for sure neither Seth nor I are the ones she should be messing with. Nope.
“Hate disappointing Trix,” Knox growls as he hits Send on his text. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later. I’m throwing myself in the shower then hitting the field. Good luck with this shithole you’ve created.” He sucker punches me in the gut, and I shoot him with my finger as he takes off. “Oh, and hey”—he shouts from over the lawn—“thanks for helping my little sister out last night!”
Little sister. By like a minute? He really does see himself as superior to her, doesn’t he?
“You bet,” I shout back “She’s like my little sister, too.” Shit. Did I just bark that out for all of Hollow Brook to hear? The feel of my tongue deep inside her mouth makes my insides grind. I wasn’t exactly acting brotherly toward her last night, and not any other time we repeated that act.
“Thanks, man.” Knox hops the mini fence dividing our property line. “I really appreciate you looking out for her.”
“Anytime.”
I shut the door and wonder exactly when I became such an asshole.
* * *
After a long, hot shower—which should have been a cold one—it was hard as hell to fight the urge not to slick off thinking of my new “little sis”. Damn. Trixie was right. I’m a pervert.
I get dressed and head over to campus, fully intending to hang out on the field and catch practice. The Mustang football team is strong, and the practice sessions are just as good as the games. Instead, I stray away from that part of the field and end up meandering aimlessly past Hallowed Grounds, past the bookstore, and straight into dormitory territory. I spot Lucky and Ava over by the quad but stray from them, too. I’m not sure why. They’re about the only female friends I have that I haven’t had a sexual thought toward them, Harper included.
“Hey, Knight!” I hear Lucky chirp from behind, and I cringe as I turn around. She comes up panting and laughing with Ava by her side. “Don’t you pretend like you didn’t see us sitting there! You made eye contact. What has you running scared, boy?” She lunges at me with a hug, and Ava does the same.
“I bet it’s a girl.” Ava gives a sarcastic wink.
Lucky huffs at the idea. “Honey, this is Rushford Knight. It’s about twelve girls.” She hikes up on the balls of her feet and roughs up my hair.
Just as I’m about to say something, I catch a glimpse of Trixie exiting Cutler Tower, and our eyes connect for a hot second. Her gaze rounds out as she inspects Lucky and Ava. Trixie knows Lucky because she’s dating her stepbrother Lawson, but I’d swear there’s a twinge of jealousy in her eyes despite the fact. I may not be hitting the Dean’s List at Briggs, but I can read a girl better than most people on the planet.
Lucky turns around and does a double take before glaring up at me a moment. “You do realize there are some girls on campus that are simply not welcome in that harem of yours.”
Ava grabs her by the arm and tugs her away. “We’re two of ’em.” She offers a snide grin. “Stay out of trouble, would you? And Grant says he’d li
ke to see you sometime other than practice!” she shouts as they’re halfway to Hallowed Grounds.
Grant and Lawson have been glued at the hip to their plus ones. The only time we see one another is when I’m beaming a basketball into their bellies during practice. Maybe I should head to Beta house tonight. Hang out with the guys, shoot some pool, down some beers. The next number in the equation usually involves a girl. But I’m not able to think that far ahead anymore. My gaze and my mind are fixated on a tall, dark-headed beauty coming my way. Her hair shines in the light, flashing black and white as if she were my own personal storm headed this way. But those eyes, they siren out like laser beams threatening me, enchanting me, marking my forehead right where her brothers can freely pump it full of lead. Trixie flashes a smile that says she knows something, and that something has the power to bite both my balls off in one quick chomp.
The evergreens that line the walk behind her create a dramatic backdrop, and for a second each of those sixty foot pines morphs into a menacing version of her two brothers. To say Trixie is off-limits is putting it mildly. Making out with her, harboring indecent thoughts about her, is akin to playing Russian roulette where every chamber is filled with a bullet. This is a no-win situation that will undoubtedly end with my death. I’m not just playing with fire. My lust for her is gasoline, and I’m a towering inferno, a complete idiot for inciting the burn to begin with. I could have refused that first kiss—the spark that led to this blaze.
Trixie bounces over, panting through a smile. The scent of warm vanilla wraps its fingers around my balls, and I shake my head at her.
It’s a lie. I couldn’t have resisted that first kiss if I tried.
I take a sharp breath. Little sister. All Knox asked of me was to treat her as such. There are thousands of girls on campus. I don’t need this one.
My gut grinds as if signaling maybe I do.
Red Hot Kisses Page 12
